“West Side Story”: A Review and a Problem
The Review
“West Side Story” is practically a religious text for me. I prefer it to its Shakespearean source material, cherish the original film directed by Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins, and have seen it on stage a couple of times. Steven Spielberg’s latest opus is a miraculous, nearly perfect film adaptation that hews more closely to the original book than the film with a script by Tony Kushner that eclipses that of the 1961 film.
It boasts some of Janusz Kaminski’s finest cinematography, beautiful note-perfect performances, and of course, that score and those lyrics. Its emotional beats ebb and flow and overwhelm and threaten to overwhelm, but this is innate to the material and not a result of Spielbergian indulgence (which to honest, he hasn’t really indulged in in quite some time).
I had extreme trepidation about Spielberg mounting Sondheim’s masterpiece from an extreme distrust of his sentimentality to the possibility that he’d let the camera do too much of the acting or that he would miss the point of the songs and the score. I really didn’t need to worry. He made some terrific choices (casting Rita Moreno as Doc’s widow, replacing “I Feel Pretty” to where it belongs in the narrative, “Stay Cool” as a duet between Riff and Tony, and foregrounding the gentrification of Manhattan’s upper West Side so that the context of the play itself is restored and made more tactile, more immediate). He also found a cast of pros made for this musical, particularly, his principles.
In a cast full of Billy Madison performers, David Alvarez stood out as Bernardo, the head of the Sharks and Maria’s older brother. Alvarez won a Tony for his performance on Broadway and brings several shades and layers to Bernardo. Ariana Debose does the same with Anita, Bernardo’s girlfriend/fiancée/partner. She may be the only person I’ve seen to both honor and equal Rita Moreno’s Oscar-winning performance. She shines in the quieter moments with her boyfriend and her sister. Which brings us to Maria. Rachel Zegler, in her screen debut, owns the role. It’s that simple. She brings an authenticity to the role and a vulnerability lacking in Natalie Wood’s reading (heresy, I know), plus, she can sing! That’s also the saving grace of the film; knowing that the actors are so accomplished and handling their own singing and dancing is astonishing and again, lends a kind of greater dimension of reality to what we see on screen. Zegler had also played Maria on stage, so while I’m not about to say that it might have been easier for her than for some others, the film exists - at the very least - as a document of a performance we’d only be privy to be on stage.
Josh Andrés Rivera brings a world of humanity and gentleness to Chino, Maria’s Bernardo-approved suitor for Maria. The evolution of the character over the story’s arc is expertly fulfilled by Rivera’s approach to the character. He could have remained a milk toast sap who just happens to find some courage at the last minute to wield a gun, but it doesn’t come across like that here; Chino is swept up in the moment of searing desperation that courses through the film so that his last act reads as the final, tragical and logical conclusion it is. Mike Faist brings a vulnerability to Riff, the co-founder with Tony, of the Jets street gang. His backstory is better articulated and his sense of living fast and dying young is more up front than in the earlier film. And finally, I have an Anybodys that isn’t played for laughs. Iris Menas plays a non-binary iteration of the character that really, really wants to be a part of the Jets (or anything, really) and comports herself with a surprising dignity buttressed by a genuine toughness often lacking in other performances I’ve seen. In other words, even the supporting characters are fleshed out.
Corey Stoll and Brian D’Arcy James are on hand as Lieutenant Schrank and Officer Krupke. Krupke is the more memorable of the two and James fills the role out with considerably more gravitas than what’s usually seen.
And then, there’s Rita Moreno, whose turn as Doc’s widow is front-loaded with nostalgia on the one hand and completely fresh on the other. The set-up that Doc married Valentina in a racially charged milieu retroactively makes the character in the earlier film more three dimensional, more well-rounded. However, it’s Rita’s performance here that serves the anchor to a film already more grounded than its predecessor. Valentina’s compassion for and support of Tony is deep and beautifully realized and Moreno’s scene after the rumble and Bernardo’s stabbing where she reprises “Someday” is heart-breaking. Hell, I started tuning up when she first shows up onscreen.
Lastly, Ansel Elgort surprised the hell out of me. I’ve been impressed with him via “Baby Driver” and “The Fault in Our Stars”, but I had no idea he trained in dance from a young age nor that he could sing, at all. His Tony is more layered than Richard Beymer’s and feels closer to Brando’s Kowalski in terms of inner conflict (but with a greater amount of hope, particularly once he meets Maria). How he handles his relationships with Moreno’s Valentina, Riff, and Maria carries more weight. He also doesn’t have the same teflon standing that Beymer’s Tony had with the Jets of his time.
This is one of the few films where try as I may, I don’t have any quibbles. Spielberg, Kushner, the cast and the crew served the material instead of attempting to make it “more”. In doing so, they showed how universal and constant the themes in the film (and by extension, Shakespeare’s play) remain. The pity is that more people should see “West Side Story” now more than ever and if the box office returns continue, it will remain a pity that they don’t.
I don’t think I need to write more about what a wonderful experience this was for me and if you are reading this for my review and that only, you are now free to go on your way. What follows is unfortunate, but I feel necessary to venture into.
The Ansel Elgort Problem
In correcting the biggest issue with the original of casting white people in brown face for the Puerto Rican characters, the lead for Tony became freighted of sexual assault in June of 2020 by a woman on Twitter. The allegations are that she was a big fan, followed him on Twitter, and they met when she was seventeen and he was twenty. Elgort denied the accusations, saying that the relationship was consensual but that he did not handle the break-up well by ghosting the woman. He apologized and it appears both parties have since deleted related tweets (and Elgort much of his Instagram posts.)
Another woman came forward - with the username @Caelyn_Brooke - recounting that Elgort had sought her out when she was sixteen. They met in public and she wrote recently that she didn’t think “how predatory and creepy [Elgort’s] behavior was” until she learned of the other user’s experience. There is yet another now-deleted tweet from another woman claiming that Elgort sent her dick pics on Twitter when she was in eighth grade in 2014. And finally, there is yet another allegation that @steeeeerr that he had contacted her over Snapchat and asked if she would want to visit him in his hotel room the next time he was in London.
It could be argued that we are talking about allegations that surface years after these events took place, that we’re essentially talking about a 20 year old male caught up in his ascendancy as a celebrity (“Divergent” and “The Fault in Our Stars” were propelling him further into the limelight after the remake of “Carrie” release the previous year plus his burgeoning career in music at the same time brought him into contact with younger fans), and that his lack of maturity led him to make unwise decisions. In other words, we could and would be making excuses for (once again) Male Predatory Behavior (MPB - trademark pending).
On press junkets, Elgort has been part of an ensemble, neither Amblin nor 20th Century have acknowledged the allegations, nor have any of his co-stars. That the preponderance of tweets and posts have been deleted from almost all of the parties’ accounts is telling and raises questions is both telling and troubling in that telling.
Did the studios and their legal teams contact the (alleged) victims and offer them buy-outs to remove the posts? Did they likewise lean on Elgort to do the same (especially since he was, until last year, very active on social media)? May we assume that the corporate machinery has also stipulated a non-disclosure on the movie’s production team regarding this issue? In other words, are we seeing in broad daylight what Hollywood used to do in back rooms?
Here’s the larger issue: these are serious allegations and should be investigated. There should be some greater degree of transparency and if Elgort did these things, he should - at the very least - come clean and own up. The onus is on him to demonstrate that he has grown and evolved enough to recognize that it’s not just his career at stake but that his actions in the past had and will continue to have ramifications. He could also do something as his profile continues to rise to, I don’t know, actually work for the benefit of victims of sexual assault?
Because this behavior took place far enough in the past, one assumption is that there is a statute of limitations surrounding legal consequences. He was not arrested or tried and to be clear, these are allegations. However, I wonder what it’s going to take for guys (I realize this sounds like I don’t think women can be predatory sexual assailants but it should be tacitly assumed that sexual assault, regardless of gender, is unacceptable) to realize that no, we shouldn’t assume/act on assumptions/impose our libidos on people and frankly, should keep our dicks in our pants until/unless there’s crystal clear consent.
Possibilities
Elgort is one of the few that either because of studio protection or dumb luck or a combination thereof is lucky that his career hasn’t tanked in the year since that initial tweet appeared. If there’s a should that he should do, it is coming clean and speaking up and accepting responsibility for his behavior while offering proof of growth and maturity. He could become a strong example that a) male celebs are capable of being responsible adults and b) helping to change the still-toxic predatory environment in the entertainment industry.
That said, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that the allegations have reached enough people to damage the film’s box office, although I don’t think many people who are familiar with the first film would necessarily be familiar with Elgort himself. However, younger people who do follow figures like Elgort are for certain likely to track the stories and keep tabs on where such figures go. They may not have an organized boycott, but may be unwilling to support those artists in the future.
Which brings me to the film at hand. Earlier I wrote about the Joss Whedon Problem and I could go on about the Kevin Spacey Problem, the Polanski Problem, the Woody Allen Problem, and any number of other Problematic Creator Problems. I genuinely feel it’s up to the individual to separate the art from the artist or not. It’s a sad, tragic, and infuriating fact that people who do shitty, reprehensible things are quite often remarkable artists, capable of serving the role, the music, the art and sharing deeply moving works and insights.
I don’t know that everyone who fucks up should be cancelled. I think much depends on their actions subsequent to whatever revelations have come out; and even then, the question would remain and linger over their work: how much have they really changed? I’m thinking of actors here but this extends to artists in all fields. It could/should be extended to the sciences and the humanities overall.
It shouldn’t always result in “cancellation” but is it so beyond the pale to expect “consequences”? If you act shittily, why would you be surprised if you quit being considered for leading roles or your band no longer gets booked at premier venues and festivals? If you’re a predatory/serial abuser, why would you think that people are not going to work with you? Most of all and I can speak directly to this: why do we so very often lack the simple ability to check ourselves when we indulge in self-inflicted and damaging-to-other behavior?
One of the reasons I’ve got a heightened reflex to this sort of thing is that my past is littered with instances where I quite frankly, acted (was) a shitty, creepy bastard. Drunk, high, or stupid doesn’t really matter; the behavior and the shame associated with it was enough to finally get me to pull my head out of the place up which it was so securely lodged. If that can happen for me, it can happen for others.
However, that alone still doesn’t answer how do we solve a problem like Ansel Elgort? (That’s most assuredly an allusion to another musical’s Maria…I really couldn’t help myself…sorrry.)
I don’t believe that there is any one solution. For sure, societally, we need to show young people that there are better ways to be, and that masculinity doesn’t need to be based on machismo or macho posturing and aggressive behavior. This may already be happening; there are indications that such behavior is growing less acceptable, particularly in light of the #metoo movement and pushes for more inclusivity and gender equality (I write this as Texas and other Republican states are enacting laws to stymie that growth, but also knowing that these legislators and politicians do not represent the majority).
In terms of the broader arts community, though, should there be more systematized approaches to ethics and more open discussions about sexuality and consent? Apparently, so. However, this is an example of where and how art reflects society; I’ll be up front that there have been times when Hunter S. Thompson was a role model less for his writing than his lifestyle, for example. But you learn that you can’t live long (unless you are that guy) and maintain that kind of systematic abuse. And you sure as hell, couldn’t and shouldn’t continue that behavior if you have any sense of caring about others.
Do the allegation surrounding Elgort lessen the joy of experiencing the movie for me? Not really. The work itself towers over and subsumes the (alleged) heinous actions of the star at the center of them. BUT I don’t deny that Elgort should take responsibility for those actions and I would wish that he would address them and work to resolve them publicly, if only to serve as an example of what celebrities could be doing.
Regarding other works, I’m not so forgiving. I doubt I could watch “Manhattan” again and I categorically refuse to watch “Last Tango in Paris” ever again (though would that keep me from watching other Bertolucci or Brando films? Unlikely.) Again, so much depends on the individual - both the audience of the piece and the piece itself (i.e., the individuals involved.)
Preminger, Hitchcock, Kubrick could be absolute bastards on set and to the people working for them. Does this mean we should never watch “Laura”, “Vertigo”, or “2001: A Space Odyssey” ever? I have an easier time saying I don’t need to see Griffith’s “Birth of a Nation” ever again; but that’s for content rather than execution. It is a remarkable film; it is also a paean to the Ku Klux Klan and White Supremacy and is one of the most reprehensible great works of cinema.
Should I never listen to Wagner again? Or deny that I still find Heidegger thought-provoking and important? Again, I’d say no. But I’d also say that I don’t listen/read/watch uncritically or without awareness of what these artists/authors/composers felt, said, and did.
That most of us are conflicted, if not morally compromised at different times in our lives, goes without saying. That artists - great and not so great - are similarly fallible, should be accepted. This may not and does not excuse them (or us) from personal responsibility, but should a work of art be punished for the failings of those, who - for at least the duration of the creation of that work - were able to subsume themselves to the creative process? I tend to think not. Again it depend on the type and degree of behavior or views the problematic individual holds, but generally speaking, I’m not going to deny myself the edification of a work of great art that exists because the spirit of the thing transcends the moral failings of who produced it. Generally speaking.
More acute is determining the extent of damage done to others by the individual and/or their acceptance or denial of their act. Mel Gibson is still pretty much dead to me, Louis C.K. stands as one of the greater disappointments in my love of comedy. I might rewatch a few of Gibson’s movies, but I can’t say I’ll watch a Louis show ever again. Gibson’s racism and misogyny should be enough to keep me away from “The Year of Living Dangerously”, “Man Without a Face”, and “Gallipoli” and to be sure, I haven’t seen these in many years. The Mad Max and Lethal Weapon series are both stupidly entertaining, but do I need to watch them again? I don’t know. I don’t feel a crying need to, regardless of how much George Romero and Shane Black mean to me (and let’s be clear that the first “Lethal Weapon” is the only one that really counts).
These are just examples. I could go darker and list more, but the point stands; it’s down to me to decide what I’m going to watch but also, that I should be able to qualify or justify what I watch, knowing that the person or persons involved may be utter moral failures. We can certainly accept and forgive an individual’s falling short; but there is a moral injunction to consider the ramifications of that individual’s acts and the degree to which we are complicit in them by supporting their work.
I realize this may be a jarring coda to a review of a great movie, but it needs to be acknowledged that one of the stars of the show stands accused of sexual assault, that as much as I might like to think we’re coming along toward a world where that’s less and less acceptable, business may still continue as usual and that as a consumer of cinema have a responsibility, as well. By acknowledging that and as someone with a platform - no matter how small - I have responsibility to share what I know, both for context as well as for disclosure of how much that knowledge may affect what I see.
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